C'est L'amour
by bane the luchador
Summary: Only an idiot would consider an animated French skunk as a legitimate love mentor. America/England


_A/N: _Dedicated to **Xxzomgcheri00sxX** on dA. Language, slash, and some generalizations of the French (courtesy of Pepe Le Pew).

It goes without saying that I don't own anything.

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**C'est L'amour**

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The sun shining in his face pulled America from the realm of sleep. He stretched his arms out, feeling for the warm body that usually occupied the left side of the bed. It wasn't there. He got up on one elbow and looked over. That side of the bed was neatly made: even the pillows were perfectly aligned against the headboard.

America smiled. His lover was such a neat freak.

He threw the covers off himself, not bothering to fix his side of the bed, and got up. After stretching his back muscles out and putting on his glasses, he walked into the washroom for his usual morning ritual. When he was done, he made his way downstairs. Halfway down, a wretched smell assaulted his nose.

"What the. . ." He mumbled as he followed the odor into the kitchen. The site of England standing at the stove greeted him. England was wearing the blue apron America had gotten him last Christmas. _'Well, that explains the awful smell._' The American chuckled to himself, gliding up behind the shorter blonde, who'd yet to notice his presence.

"What'cha making?" He breathed into England's ear, wrapping his arms around the Englishman's waist. The older nation jumped and nearly sent batter everywhere.

"Don't sneak up on me, you ruddy git!" England snapped, trying to calm his racing heart. "And I'm making pancakes, if you must know."

America peered over England's shoulder at the alleged "pancake". The thing in the pan looked more like a burnt frisbee than a delicious breakfast item. He grinned even as his stomach seemed to shrivel up and die. "Looks great." He lied easily, resting his chin on a bony shoulder.

The Englishman blushed and shooed the younger nation away. "There's coffee in the pot." He said, knowing that would get the idiot to leave him be.

"Really? Alright!" America exclaimed. He leapt over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. He took a sip. Ah, just how he liked it: strong.

The European nation rolled his eyes. "Why do you like that rubbish?"

"Why not?"

"It's bitter, it smells awful, and it's bad for you." He counted off the reasons. "I thought I raised you to be more sophisticated."

America frowned. "Hey now, coffee is plenty sophisticated."

"No it isn't. It's a bum's drink." England argued. "Tea, on the other hand, is-"

"Disgusting?" America supplied, smirking lightly. He took a big gulp of his coffee. "Mmm, yum."

". . . you're hopeless."

"But you wouldn't love me if I was any different." The taller blonde winked, his smirk widening when the other did not deny the accusation.

"Whatever," The English nation said dismissively, leaning over the stove to turn the dial, switching it off. "Breakfast is ready, so go sit your pompous arse down." With that said, he slid the pancake from the pan onto a plate already piled with them and sat it down on the table. Along with eggs, bacon, and a cup of hot tea.

America obeyed, sitting in his usual chair. He eyed the pancakes for a moment, trying to decide which of them looked most edible. Eventually he gave up and grabbed the top three from the stack. He decided he would just drown them in syrup and hope for the best. His coffee was within arm's reach if things went south.

Meanwhile, England spread a layer of raspberry jam over his own two flapjacks. "I know I'm not the best cook around, so you don't have to eat if you don't want to." He said, sighing at the amount of syrup the American had used.

"No way, man. You took the time to make breakfast for me and I'll be damned if I don't appreciate it!" America beamed, mentally steeling himself as he cut off a small portion of the monstrosity and put it in his mouth. He swallowed without chewing and his stomach did a very unpleasant flip. He then quickly grabbed up his coffee and took a swig. "T-tastes awesome." He managed to smile, despite the churning in his gut.

"Do you really think so, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?" England asked suspiciously, his sharp green eyes narrowed.

"'Course I do." The American said, cutting off another piece and bringing it to his mouth. "Would I keep eating if I thought it tasted bad?"

England looked unconvinced. "No, I guess not. . ." He replied reluctantly.

"Okay then. Now shut up and lemme enjoy my breakfast."

A comfortable silence carried to the end of the meal. When both were finished eating, England began the process of cleaning up. America, ever the hero, leapt up and offered his assistance.

"Don't you remember what happened last time you tried helping?" England asked, one bushy brow raised.

"I was _drunk_!"

"What about that time at the world conference, with the piggy bank?"

"That damn Commie tripped me! You all saw it!"

"Good story, except Russia has been sick with the recession flu and hasn't attended a meeting all year."

"Well _whatever_ it was, it wasn't my fault." America crossed his arms over his chest. "Besides, I didn't hear Italy complaining. S'not like he would've ever gotten the stupid thing open otherwise."

"Okay, I'll give you that one." England smiled faintly. A moment later, he turned around and shooed America out of the kitchen. "Now go do something productive while I tidy up."

"Yes sir." The American saluted, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He walked into the sitting room, sat down on the couch and picked up the remote. Cartoons were productive, right?

Fifteen minutes later found England finishing up in the kitchen. Everything was sufficiently spotless, very much unlike how that slob America usually kept it. He couldn't fathom how the idiot could live in such a mess all the time. The Englishman thought he'd raised him better than that, but apparently not. He shuffled into the sitting room and sighed at the site of the blonde on the sofa with his eyes glued to the television.

"I thought I told you to do something productive?" He spoke above the noise of the tv set.

"This _is_ productive!" America grinned. "I'm collecting valuable information here."

"By watching Pepe Le'Pew?"

"Hell yeah. I'm learning how to impress a lover." The bespectacled nation patted the spot next to him lewdly. "Come here so I can show you what I've learned."

"You're hopeless." England sighed. Only an idiot would consider an animated French skunk as a legitimate love mentor. Though he sat down, nonetheless.

America put an arm around the older nation and nuzzled his face into sandy blonde hair. The comforting smell of tea leaves and mint invaded his nose, and he breathed it in deeply.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Smelling your hair."

"Why?"

"Becoz eet smellz gewd." America said in a corny French accent. England gaped, utterly speechless.

America, of course, thought this was a good sign. He looked towards the television again for further instruction.

"C'est l'amour, mon cheri!" Pepe declared to his ladylove.

"Say lamoor, mahn sherry!" America repeated to the mortified nation in his arms.

"Wh-what?" The island nation demanded. He then began laughing. "And here I th-thought that bloody language was b-bad enough already!"

The younger male's eyes narrowed. "Don't insult the language of love!"

"Dear god, you sound just like that blasted frog."

"That's supposed to be attractive though."

"To whom?" England scoffed.

"I did everything Pepe said, so why isn't it working?" America muttered, ignoring him. He racked his brain. He'd held England, complimented his scent, and declared his love. He didn't think he was forgetting anything, so what was the problem?

The elder blonde frowned at the distraught look on his lover's face. The poor boy really was trying to impress him. . . He sighed and leaned forward to press his lips against the American's. Said nation's downtrodden expression instantly disappeared as he wrapped his arms around his lover and took the liberty of deepening the kiss.

After they pulled apart, America smirked. "I knew you couldn't resist me."

"Whatever you say, America."

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**Translations**

_C'est l'amour, mon cheri! -_This is love, my darling!


End file.
